


Day 9: The Emeralds of Girion

by ofplanet_earth



Series: 30 days of Barduil [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard hates titles, Bard's coronation, Canon Compliant, Friendly Neighbor Thranduil, I'm not even sure anymore, M/M, Post-Canon, Royal Flirting, Thranduil needs a friend, but he wants more, is this flirting?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard is given a family heirloom as part of Laketown's share of the treasure of Erebor. Thranduil takes notice and offers him a proposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 9: The Emeralds of Girion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennacorinth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennacorinth/gifts), [LittleBiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LittleBiscuit).



> I received two prompts relating to the Emeralds of Girion (surprising, I thought, since they weren't mentioned at all in the films). The first was by [zaphodbeeblebro](http://www.zaphodbeeblebro.tumblr.com) on tumblr and the second was by Anonymous. the two of them fit together rather well, so I've combined them into a two-part story.

It was a strange thing, to see so many solemn faces at a coronation. Thranduil had been to several over the years, when alliances were good and circumstances were in their favour. He'd always found them to be happy events. But he supposed even the short memories of men were long enough to remember the destruction of dragonfire and war. The battle had been long fought and hard won for the men of the lake and similarly, for Thranduil's own people. 

There was not much cheer to have or be shared on this day, but the coronation moved forward regardless. The bargeman, who had worked on the trade route between Laketown and the Greenwood for years, who had slain the dragon Smaug with the last Black Arrow, now sat at the head of the Great Hall of Dale. The roof had caved in the far corner and, though the rubble had been cleared away in preparation for the day’s festivities, sunlight shone through the gap in the stone. 

It was quite beautiful, really, as if Eru himself had smiled upon them and their victory.

The ceremony was short even by the standards of men, and no doubt it was at the Dragonslayer's insistence. The feast came afterwards and it found them all in brighter spirits, though perhaps this was due to the Dorwinion wine Thranduil had brought as a sign of his good will. 

The evening progressed and Thranduil found himself moving to take the seat next to the newly-crowned king. "I see the dwarves have parted with some of their treasure." He said, studying the broad and handsome golden necklace studded with emeralds he had not seen since the rule of Girion. "Fitting that they should return it to its rightful owner. Though I admit I am curious what trials they put you through before they would honour your agreement with Thorin." He kept his voice low, for Dáin Ironfoot and his kin, drunk though they were, sat not too far away. 

"It was easy, really. Balin was there to explain to Dáin what had happened in Laketown before... before the dragon." Bard cleared his throat and seemed to shake the thought from his mind as though it were a physical thing, clinging to his skin through his memory. "He is not so greedy as Thorin, nor affected by the same sickness. He was willing to help us and he parted easily with our share of the treasure." 

"The haunt of dragon fire and ruin is a stubborn thing. I am sorry to say it will not leave you easily, my friend." Thranduil placed a hand upon Bard's shoulder, felt some of the tension leave him and saw the beginnings of a smile ease the features of his face. 

"I received word that you reclaimed your own treasure as well," Bard sat back in his chair, his smile soft and his eyes fixed on Thranduil as he drank from his goblet of wine.

"I did. Though my... friendship with the dwarves of Erebor is a fair bit more complicated than yours. But I would part with all the Dorwinion in my cellar if it meant bringing the gems of Lasgalen home again." 

"Then I am glad you were able to retrieve them." 

"As am I." Thranduil nodded. "I find myself in your debt, King of Dale. Were it not for you, I would have marched my army straight to the gates of Erebor with not a thought for negotiations or peace. We might have all been slaughtered before we ever breeched the mountain.” 

"And yet for all my efforts, we were still met with war and death." 

"Do not despair, My Lord."

"My Lord? Surely it is I and not you who should put such formalities to use!" Bard's eyes were bright and his cheeks were tinged with red from the wine, though he'd yet to finish his first serving.

"I am afraid you must become used to such things if you are to rule as king.”

“I fear I never will,” Bard drank from his goblet again, his expression becoming lighter than it had been even when Thranduil had first approached him. 

“You may also come to find that it is not the destination that matters most, but rather the path that takes you there." 

"Is this the Elvish wisdom I am so often told of?" Bard's smile was wide and curiously fond. Thranduil found he quite enjoyed the sight. 

"Merely the advice of a friend," 

“And are we friends, My Lord?” Bard asked. Thranduil dared say he looked hopeful. 

"I consider you to be a brave and honourable man, pure of heart and intent. I would be glad to call you such."

♔

They saw each other in the Great Hall again before Thranduil and his company returned home. Bard had called him there before they were set to depart, though this time he wore neither his ancestor's collar nor his crown. He seemed lighter, more himself, though not nearly as comfortable as he would have been on his barge, sailing through the ruins of old Esgaroth.

"I see you are putting the gifts of my people to good use." 

"Aye. Though I fear I am not used to such fine fabrics." Bard picked at the hem of his sleeve, as though wearing the material down might make it feel more familiar. 

"You ought to grow used to them. Treat these robes well and they will last long enough to see the rule of your son, and his children besides." 

Bard nodded and averted his eyes, as though such a thought embarrassed him. "I am in your debt, My Lord." 

"It is a gift. You owe me nothing, King of Dale." 

"I feel ill- suited for such titles. If we are friends, as you said after the coronation, would you not call me by my name?" 

"You would not see it as a sign of disrespect?"

"On the contrary. I would welcome it." Bard sighed, clearly exasperated by the tradition and formality his station now required of him.

"Then I will do so. On the condition that you do me the same courtesy."

"But My Lord—"

"You ask this of me after only three days as king. I have ruled for nearly three thousand years. And before that I was a prince. Few have dared to speak to me without some form of a title.” Never had Thranduil asked such a thing of anyone, not even his most trusted counsellors. Nor had he dwelled for any great length of time on the strain the crown had placed upon him. But he was weary after three millennia and he saw in Bard a sort of kindred spirit— someone with whom he might commiserate and share in his burden. He may not have intended to share such sentiments, but his words were truthful nonetheless. “Please, if you indeed consider us to be more than neighbouring kings, then do me this courtesy."

"I do," Bard said. "And I will. Thranduil." A smile rose on Thranduil's lips, rare enough in its sincerity that it may have surprised them both. 

"Thank you," Thranduil said. 

"I have a gift for you, as well." Bard motioned to a young man who stood across the hall. He strode forward and presented Bard with a sturdy wooden box, Dwarvish in make and dark in colour. "As repayment for your aide in the wake of Smaug's destruction." 

"Have I not told you, Bard? You owe me nothing." Thranduil began to argue, but Bard said nothing more as he lifted the clasp and opened the wooden box. Inside was the necklace of Bard's ancestor, another man Thranduil had considered a friend. He shook his head. "I could not take such an heirloom from you." 

Bard shrugged. "I have little use for it. Now that the coronation has passed I fear these gems will only sit in this box, unused and collecting dust. I would rather know they were appreciated." 

Thranduil sighed. "You will not take no for an answer?" 

"My My people would not have lasted even this long without your provisions and your help. I would show my appreciation as a friend. Or perhaps as a king? Surely you would not reject such a gift from your ally for fear of insuring my honour and hospitality.” 

"You deceive me with your talk of ill- suited titles and heavy crowns, Bard. I hesitate to say I am impressed, for I am also disappointed. You wore these jewels well and I had hoped to see such a sight again." 

A flustered blush rose on Bard's cheeks. "Surely you jest." 

"A king never jests. He speaks truthfully and pointedly. Everything he says is to further his own end.” 

"What is the end you seek, if not treasure or political gain?"

"I desire your company." Thranduil simply said. "I will accept this gift if you will agree to join me in my own kingdom in a few weeks' time." He had an inkling of an idea— a feeling— and he intended to put it to the test.

“You would seek out my company so soon?” 

“I would seek you out more often than duty and political relations require of us, yes.” 

"And I am to believe this visit will be strictly for official purposes?” 

"Of course. It is not becoming to travel such distances for frivolous and selfish matters.” They both shared a smirk that gave away the humour of their words. 

"It would please me greatly to share your company again." Bard closed the wooden box and held it out for Thranduil to take. 

"I thank you. For your company and for your most thoughtful gift. I will send a messenger and an escort in due time." Bard dipped his head in a small bow and Thranduil returned the gesture.

“My— Thranduil?” Thranduil smiled as he paused mid- way down the Great Hall and turned to face Bard again. He looked to be a man at war with himself, his frown giving away his turmoil. Thranduil waited patiently for Bard to speak again. When he did, it was with a resolute smile and a firm set of his shoulders. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

**Author's Note:**

> it's not too late to request a fic! [submit a prompt](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll add it to the list!  
> I like to tag [inspiration](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-of-barduil) for the stories I write.  
> you can keep track of my word count on [my WriMo novel page](http://nanowrimo.org/participants/ofplanet-earth/novels/30-days-of-barduil) or [my tumblr](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo).


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